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Polly Richey

Friday was tough.

My 19 year old cat Polly was at the end of her run.  My friends and I rescued her litter after their mother disappeared.   I spent weeks bottle feeding kittens every day until the day the litter was weened, then she came home with me.  She was so tiny, I used a shallow piece of tupperware for her cat box.  The first time she used it, she got her front paws in, scratched around for a second, squatted - and crapped on the floor.  That was the only time, until recently, that she ever missed the litter box.

We're pretty sure she had a stroke a few weeks ago, and she had been going downhill ever since.  Normally, she was a bitch.  We weren't her owners - we were her servants, there for her pleasure.  It was sad to see what she had become.  She had a long life, especially when compared to the rest of her litter - which I believe she outlived by at least 15 years.

Really, she was a great cat.  When the lights went out, she would whisper, she loved bare toes in an almost obscene way, and she was a better alarm clock than any clock I've ever owned.  Everyone is going to miss her.

Monday will be just as tough.  She was well loved, so we decided to have her cremated so she can still be with us.

For those of you who have pets, love them and cherish the time you have.  They have short lives compared to us, but they can have a huge impact in their short time.

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